


Day 27- Ropes

by Broken_Clover



Series: Goretober 2018 [27]
Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Gen, Interrogation, Reader-Insert, Restraints, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 17:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Clover/pseuds/Broken_Clover
Summary: You awake to find yourself tied to a chair, held captive by the Assassin's Guild.





	Day 27- Ropes

The first thing you notice is a splitting pain in your head. The sharp throbs make you seriously reconsider waking up in the first place, but it seems like your body isn’t going to allow you any more rest.

You move to rub your sleepy, heavy eyes. As you do, you feel something thick and tight ensnaring your wrists, keeping them firmly behind your back.

From that, more and more stimuli come to your attention. The strange bindings on your arms are assisted by what seems to be a very uncomfortable chair, making your back and shoulders sore as you sit in it. Your legs are similarly bound, tied to each of the front legs. When you try to open your mouth, you feel something wrapped around to muffle it.

The room around you is dark as you blink the lingering tiredness away. You can turn your head, though it accomplishes little. There’s only darkness, darkness, darkness, as far as you can see.

What’s happened to you?

Through the unpleasant aches, you try to remember. Nothing in your memory seems particularly out of the ordinary. Last you could remember, you’d just finished your work shift and were walking home. After that, your mind draws a blank.

“You’re awake. Good.”

The sudden voice makes you jolt. It, like the scene around you, is completely unfamiliar. All you can tell is that it’s coming from somewhere in front of you.

“Who are you?” The words come out slurred out and muffled from your dry throat and mouth gag. You’re undeniably afraid, but the stiffening of your muscles only make the prongs of the chair dig into your shoulders.

Your question goes unanswered. Instead, you feel a hand touching your face. The fingers hook around a blindfold you didn’t realize you were wearing, and yank. The rough motion snags on some loose hair of yours. It hurts, but you’re too distracted to hiss in pain. The world has become filled with light. It burns, even when you close your eyes.

“Alright, let’s get this done sooner rather than later. Zato has a schedule he wants me to keep.” The voice returns. It’s stern and demanding, yet oddly melodic at the same time. You’re not sure why she sounds so angry. Have you done something?

With a bit of effort, you manage to reopen your eyes and adjust to the harsh light. It’s obviously a lamp of some sort trained intently on you. Is this some sort of police interrogation? Cops aren’t known for snatching people off of the street. At least, as far as you know…

The girl in front of you doesn’t look like an officer. The white and blue are reminiscent of the Holy Order uniforms, but it much more resembles a short dress than a uniform. Her clothing only keeps your attention for a moment, though, before it’s pull upwards. Her expression is as severe as her voice, but it has the same beautiful quality. It also make it abundantly clear to you that no, you don’t know who this person is, or why you’re stuck in a room alone with her.

Diamond-colored eyes brush over your restrained body. She seems disinterested. “The only reason you aren’t dead yet is because we haven’t been able to pin down any of your accomplices yet.” A hand moves up to sweep some of the beautiful golden hair off of her shoulder.

Your thoughts snap back into place as you try to process her words. Accomplices? What does that mean? Who wants you dead?!

“What are you talking about?” In your haste, you forget about the gag. The words come out barely audible.

The woman quirks an eyebrow at you. Before you can think, you watch the hair that she just brushed off slide back over her shoulder, and towards you. The strands lift right off of her shoulder, and somehow fuse and morph into a hand-like structure.

You flinch back, confusion and fear tugging at your chest, but the hand merely pulls on the fabric in your mouth until it moved down past your chin.

“Keep it short. I don’t have a problem gagging you again.”

The thought of asking again surfaces, but it’s just as quickly drowned out by the curiosity of what just happened. “Y-your hair- !”

She looked unamused with your words. You quickly continue talking. “I’ve never seen this kind of magic! Who _are_ you?”

A little smirk twitches at the end of her lip. “You’re talkative.” That seems to be the end of it, but she decides to indulge. “Millia.”

“Millia…?” A pretty name. It suits her. Still, you force yourself back on track. “Why am I here? What are you talking about ‘accomplices?’ I haven’t done anything!”

That tiny smirk vanishes immediately, and a cold feeling floods your chest.

“Do you think this is my first interrogation?” She asks. You can’t bring yourself to answer. “You’ve been on our list for quite some time. So don’t play dumb with me.”

You aren’t, and haven’t been. But Millia seems convinced. All you can think to do is protest, trying to ignore the feeling of the rope biting into your skin.

“Please, listen to me! I’m innocent! I haven’t done-”

All of the breath escapes from your lungs. With a swish, the woman’s golden hair has morphed into a sickle-like blade, pressed dangerously close to your neck.

“I don’t like your tone.” Millia’s gaze hardens. “I’d advise you to rethink your current predicament.

Millia is beautiful, but very, very terrifying. The blade glimmers in the lamplight, highlighting its very sharp edge. It definitely isn’t for show. And if her expression is anything to go by, she has every intention to use it if you can’t give her what she wants.

A feeling of dread pools in your stomach, and fear-sweat drips down the back of your neck.


End file.
